


something to rely on

by JealousMary



Series: Milex-verse [3]
Category: Alex Turner - Fandom, Last Shadow Puppets, Miles Kane - Fandom
Genre: EYCTE TOUR, Established Relationship, M/M, Paris (City), Rock en Seine 2016, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25358227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JealousMary/pseuds/JealousMary
Summary: It's the last night of the tour, and despite the joyful celebration, it's impossible to shake a bit of sadness and not wish for the sunrise to be a lifetime away.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Series: Milex-verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991281
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	something to rely on

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [something to rely on](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/651112) by JealousMary. 



> I wrote this mid-quarantine, and all emotional after watching Rock en Seine, and sappy for Milex in general, so. You've been warned.
> 
> Also, I'd like to officialy proclaim my love for the string quartet because these ladies are amazing.

Their cheeks are almost touching, Alex’s shoulder is relaxed under Miles’s palm, and his hot breath reaches the sensitive skin of his neck.

“ _Baby, it’s a never-ending spiral — looks a little bit like Paris…_ ”

Miles feels a smile spreading over his face as the audience cheers excitedly at this line. Yes, that was on purpose, no coincidences – this city, this song, random phrases in French that Alex keeps shouting with questionable pronounciation but more than enough enthusiasm to make up for it, and their own story, entwined tightly with these places.

A story in which another chapter is about to be over.

Tonight everyone – Lauren and Zach, Tyler, the string quartet, him and Alex themselves – are more engaged in the performance than ever before, and Miles, looking around, can’t shake the thought “like it’s the last time”, and then remembers that they are, indeed, enjoying themselves that much _for the last time_. Surrounded by familiar smiles, a little dizzy from how perfectly in sync they all are, Miles keeps chasing that thought away – but it refuses to give up and always comes back, as if to stab his heart with a thin needle. If only he could grab this night in his hands and make it stay, make it last until he stops feeling that it hasn’t been _enough_ – and, fully aware how hopeless that wish is, he tries to grab onto Alex instead, pulling him closer again and kissing him on the cheek, causing the crowd to let out a gasp of delight. And, when the song is over, he reluctantly lets him go to wildly dance in circles around the stage again.

And there’s no more time for side-tracked thoughts because the show, polished to a perfection over the past few months, gets a hold of them and carries on with insane speed and intensity, and the next time Miles gets back to reality, Alex, standing in the front, is already belting out Bowie’s iconic lyrics, and it suddenly hits him – this is it. The grand finale, the climax, the last act. His heartbeat speeds up and he almost feels the tension and grandeur in the air – that is, until he looks down where Alex, for reasons known to Alex only, is crawling ungracefully towards the camera man, mic clutched in one hand. Miles chuckles and rolls his eyes, barely holding back a giggle, and just like this, all his solemn and anxious mood is gone, replaced with a little tired but not really annoyed _Alex-what-the-hell-are-you-doing-this-time_ and a slight worry that he’ll miss the moment to come in.

Alex, of course, doesn’t miss it, because today every little thing is going unbelievably and seamlessly right, and triumphantly sings the last chorus back up on the stage, and then, all they are capable of doing is grinning like idiots, and waving to a storm of applause until their arms hurt, and dragging each other off the stage in a tight hug because neither of them can find the strength to leave on their own.

The moment the locker room’s door shuts behind them, Alex pushes Miles against it, gently touching his cheek to make him tilt his head a bit, and presses their lips together in a tender, unexpectedly slow and soft kiss. Miles wraps his arms around Alex’s waist and puts his hand on the small of his back, making him slightly arch his body: Alex lets out a quiet sigh of pleasure, closes his eyes and makes a trail of kisses to Miles’s ear – Miles winces and tightens the embrace when Alex gently, teasingly bites on his earlobe.

“We can’t do it now,” Miles reminds not only Alex but himself, too. “We’re gotta go celebrate the end of the tour, remember?”

Alex hums in disagreement and tries to shut him up with a kiss, and Miles can’t deny that it’s effective – he cups Alex’s flushed face in his hands, catching his unfocused stare, and this time, when their lips meet, they moan softly in unison, but a knock on the door interrupts them.

Alex, startled, pulls back a little and covers his mouth with his hand, as if caught on a crime scene, and Miles, unable to hold back, buries his face in Alex’s shoulder, shaking with silent uncontrollable laughter.

“Guys, you ready?” Zach sounds so unfazed that it’s impossible to decipher whether he truly has no idea what’s going on on the other side of the door or just, unlike them, knows how to restrain himself. “We’re about to go.”

Miles can’t stop laughing, so Alex takes a deep breath and replies in an unsteady voice himself:

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming.”

“You’ve got the whole night ahead, get out of there!” Lauren suddenly shouts from somewhere in the distance, and Alex, mouth falling open helplessly, furiously blushes, while Miles finally begins laughing out loud.

“We’re coming, for real!” he assures them breathlessly. “Two minutes!”

“And don’t stand there listening in!” Alex adds with feigned annoyance, and now laughter echoes on the other side of the door, but, it seems, they do politely leave.

“When have we given ourselves away?” Alex mournfully asks, changing into a clean t-shirt, and Miles raises an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to list it chronologically?”

“I mean, have given ourselves away so much that it’s no longer a running joke but a confirmed fact?”

“Can still give you a list,” Miles catches Alex’s slightly displeased – or maybe, just interested in him undressing as well – stare. “But serously though, I think they saw us when we… got a bit carried away at Strathallan.”

“Strathallan,” Alex sighs nostalgically. “Worth it, then,” he puts a light jacket over his shoulders and steps closer to Miles to steal another short kiss. “Let’s go?”

Miles takes his hand, making the corner of Alex’s lips curve up, and drags him along to the door.

The atmosphere in the small separate room of the restaurant is not, by any means, depressed, but it’s not as lively as usual, either. They still definitely feel happy, just in a more calm and held-back way – they laugh, going over the tour’s funniest moments, and laugh even more at getting nostalgic so soon, congratulate each other on how perfect tonight’s show was, and carefully avoid the subject of what’s coming next, when the night is over.

Alex is being uncharacteristically quiet, although smiling nearly the whole time, and stops drinking after a couple of glasses of wine – but that seems to be enough to loosen him up a little: he stares absent-mindedly into space and keeps shifting closer to Miles (either naively thinking no one sees it or simply not caring) until finally dropping his head on Miles’s shoulder, eyes semi-closed, and squeezing his wrist under the table. Miles huffs in slight embarassment because everyone, apparently, feels obligated to send a knowing glance their way, mumbles some sort of unconvincing protest and completely cancels it out by leaning his head closer, cheek resting against Alex’s hair.

“Have you guys thought about what you’re gonna do next?” Jenny asks, and Miles is grateful to her for casually carrying on with the conversation but at the same time, barely holds back from grimacing at yet another reminder that the unknown and dreadful _next_ is coming, and ignoring it will soon no longer be an option.

“A lot of stuff, I think,” Alex turns his head a little, resting his chin on Miles’s shoulder, and sends Jenny a relaxed smile. “We’ve got so many things to catch up on. I mean, I left my band for this, he,” he bumps his forehead against Miles’s temple, “left his, um… Solo band?”

“Solo project,” Zach mouthes with a blank expression, but his eyes betray the held-back laughter.

“I like _solo band_ ,” Miles objects, and Alex chuckles in content – although, this close to Miles’s ear it sounds more like puffing.

“So, in short, a little break, and then we’ll be back to writing something again ‘cause the ideas are kinda piling up by now,” and Miles can agree at least with that. “But eventually, I believe, we’ll end up together again,” Alex glances at Miles out of the corner of his eye and gives him a small smile. “No matter where we drift, we’ll start missing each other at some point.”

Of course, Alex says this, for the large part, because of the wine and this relaxed tired state he’s in, and everyone is smiling and winking at them again, and Miles decides that tonight, it’s okay to slip into their true selves a little: he pulls Alex closer, circling his arms around his waist, and presses a kiss to his temple, and even cheers up a bit.

In a collective rush, they rise up to dance, dragging even Lauren and Tyler, who keep laughing and mildly protesting, along. Someone from the personnel makes the music louder, not even waiting for a request, and they all, more or less successfully, get into its pulse. Alex puts his arms around Miles’s neck, and they lazily swing on the spot rather than really dance – they could still find the energy to do it, even after a gig, but it feels nicer to do it like this: casually, taking it easy, and bursting into small laughs every now and then because they keep staring into each other’s eyes for too long.

Pretty soon, though, they all, teasing each other, get a bit more excited, and Miles and Alex, going along with it, end up separating: Mikala grabs Alex for an energetic dance, and Claudia grabs Miles, and they have to put all their efforts to catching up because losing in their own element would be, of course, unacceptable.

And so, their merry party returns to the hotel well past midnight, heated, exhausted, and absolutely content with life. Miles climbs out of the car, happily breathing in the cool night air, and stops to gaze at the pitch black sky without a single cloud in sight, and flinches when Alex comes up to him from behind and leans on his shoulder, looking up as well.

“Are you spending the night here?” Lauren waves from the hotel entrance, and honestly, to Miles’s unfocused mind that sounds like a pretty good idea.

“Don’t bother waiting for us,” Alex waves back. “We’ll have a smoke and then go in.”

“Yeah, a smoke, sure,” Lauren mumbles under his breath while Zach chuckles and pats his back, pushing him towards the door.

“That wasn’t even a euphemism,” Alex scoffs, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offering one to Miles who’s examining his jeans with no luck – he probably left his own somewhere in the bags.

They breathe out the smoke into the night sky and fall silent for a while: the neighbourhood is a quiet one, and disrupting its peaceful slumber, disturbed only by rustling of wind in the trees and the distant noises of cars, seems wrong.

“You look down,” Alex whispers and pauses for another drag – or maybe, to wait for an answer – but Miles stays silent, suddenly very interested in the light on the tip of his cigarette. “Mi? Are you just tired or-“

“Tired,” Miles admits, shifting closer to him. “And ‘or’ as well. No, I’m fine,” he shakes his head at Alex’s worriedly raised eyebrows. “But the tour has ended sooner than I expected, I think?...”

“Are you missing it in advance?” Alex takes the cigarette out of his mouth and leans closer, pressing their foreheads together.

“Don’t wanna miss it at all. I want Paris and this night, infinitely,” Alex laughs, caressing his cheek with his thumb, and Miles grabs his wrist, squeezing slightly. “Don’t you go laughing at me, I’m drunk, so I have the right to say sentimental nonsense.”

“Nice try, but I’ve seen you _really_ drunk, and now you’re just sentimental.”

“So be it, then,” Miles sighs, throwing his finished cigarette away, and presses their lips together, and Alex, as if he’s been waiting for this the whole time, moans quietly and deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into Miles’s mouth.

“Are they all looking at us and laughing right now?” he mumbles unclearly, pulling away a bit, and Miles, circling his arms around Alex’s waist, pulls him back.

“Their windows are facing the other side.”

“You have a point, though,” Alex says thoughtfully, like he’s not listening at all. “About the night.”

“Do I hear another crazy idea coming to your mind?”

“It’s not crazy.”

“Surprise me.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Alex lets out a laugh, steals another quick kiss and pulls back, gesturing somewhere in the direction opposite to the hotel.

Miles gives him a pointed stare, and Alex takes it in a heartbeat – a suggestively raised eyebrow, a wicked smile dancing on the corners of his lips, total confidence of his victory in his eyes: Miles can never resist it even when he wants to.

“Okay,” he nods casually but giggles the next second as Alex takes his hand and happily drags him somewhere into the Paris night.

Miles barely knows this part of the city, and so, as far as he’s aware, does Alex, but he can’t bring himself to worry about where they’re going and how they will find the way back. In a few minutes they stumble across a road sign pointing in the direction of the Seine and, exchanging brief glances, turn that way because it’s just as good as any other and because this time around, they didn’t have the chance to walk by the river, and that is unacceptable.

The streets are empty, and the sound of their footsteps echoes softly from the brick walls, and the slightest sigh seems to be ten times louder than it actually is. Miles wonders if they would be able to hear their own heartbeats if they stayed still: Alex’s pulse is rushing against his fingertips, and his own is not far behind, this spontaneous thougtless adventure making him slightly dizzy.

What makes him even more dizzy, though, is how good and right it feels – just like everything does when he’s with Alex, including far more reckless things then willingly getting lost in a foreign city in the middle of the night. Not even so foreign, probably: every time here they have more and more memories to come back to, and whatever happens until the sunrise will be sure to end up on that list, too.

They reach the river, and the embankment, despite the hour, is not as deserted as the streets: car lights are blinking and chasing each other on the other side, and on this one, a few other restless souls are visible in the distance, no doubt just as entraced by this night as they are. Alex leans over the fence for a moment, staring into the colourful lights dancing on the black water, straightens up just as suddenly and nods at the bridge a little further away. Miles holds back a joke about Alex’s intention to jump off of it and lets him lead the way. The air here is cooler, and Alex snuggles closer to him, shoulders pressed together, and even if that does nothing to protect them from the cold, Miles certainly doesn’t mind.

“I thought the nights were still hot,” Alex mumbles absent-mindedly, and Miles shrugs.

“Summer’s ending.”

He holds back the “ _and so is the tour_ ” because on this night of celebration, he’s already been acting gloomy enough. An airplane flies over them, rumbling in the distance and slowly gaining height, and Alex, as if fascinated, follows it with his eyes while Miles deliberately lowers his gaze to the river.

There’s not a soul in sight on the bridge, the wind is stronger than on the shore, and the view of the water’s smooth surface is even more hypnotising: about halfway through, Alex stops, putting his arms on the rails and resting his chin on top of them, and looks down like he does want to jump – not out of despair, though, but out of this chaotic feeling of freedom and sheer confidence that tonight he can get away even with that. Alex laughs quietly, and Miles can’t help smiling, too – it is, indeed, funny, what this city does to them and how reckless it always makes them. But then Alex tears his gaze away from the waves slowly moving beneath and looks at Miles with slight worry. After a few moments of silence, he finally awkwardly points out:

“There are a couple of days of the summer left, though,” and this awkwardness is a dead give-away that he’s not talking about the summer at all.

“Al, I-“

“It’s like you’re afraid to be late for something this whole day,” Alex turns away to face the river again but keeps stealing glances at Miles out of the corner of his eye. “There’s nothing left to be late for anymore, you know?”

“Exactly,” Miles sighs, lowering his head. “Look, I’m probably just overreacting but-“

“I’m sad, too,” Alex shrugs. “This was an incredible tour, and I’m sad, too. That it’s over.”

“But?...” Miles feels the corner of his lips curving upwards because there has to be some sort of _but_ here.

“But I also can’t wait to write down all the new ideas I have? See if I can maybe reflect all these months of touring with you in them? I don’t know – it’s just there’s so many things that I wanna start that there’s almost no headspace left to mourn over this ending.”

“I wanna start a lot of things, too,” Miles admits. “I… I probably feel like I paused everything else when we started planning this album. And now I’m not sure how to get back.”

“Just barge in and let it play out,” Alex waves his hand nonchalantly. “It won’t go smoothly anyway, so what’s the difference? Where to start if not in the middle of the way, after all?”

Miles instanly looks up, narrowing his eyes and holding back a smile.

“Did you just rephrase your song into a life advice?”

“Well, it’s gotta be useful for something,” Alex gazes at the Seine with mock seriousness, but the twitching corners of his lips give him away, and Miles leans closer to leave a quick kiss on them. “And I’ll miss you, too,” Alex finds Miles’s hand and entwines their fingers together. “But it’s not like we’re not gonna see each other ever again because the tour’s over.”

“I know, I know. But still, we’re not gonna perform together every night-“

“I keep accidentally trying to draw all the attention to myself – sorry about that, by the way, – so it’s time you had a chance to be the only frontman. You deserve it.”

“Not gonna see each other 24/7…“

“At least we won’t bore each other to death,” Alex snorts, but with less confidence, as both of them know full well they can’t get bored of each other’s company.

“Not gonna pull this whole _we-totally-didn’t-sleep-in-one-bed_ act on Lauren and Zach…”

Alex chuckles, but the next moment his eyes get unexpectedly serious.

“Look, Mi,” he squeezes Miles’s hand tighter and presses it to his chest, and his heart is racing again. “I can’t make promises about the Puppets’ future because who knows what it’ll be like. But even if we don’t get back together for another eight years,” he gulps and looks directly into Miles’s eyes, “or at all… I promise that you will never ever lose _me_ ,” Miles takes a shaky breath and stares back at him, unsure how to find his voice and what to say, and Alex casually adds, “And we can always run away to Paris if we feel like it.”

Miles, still struggling to answer, steps closer, pressing their foreheads together, and Alex smiles, absent-mindedly tracing the zipper on Miles’s jacket with his finger.

“I would say again that we keep drifting to each other no matter what, but it just occurred to me that maybe, we don’t sail away at all?...”

“Shut up, Al,” Miles whispers, and Alex flinches at the sudden warmness of his breath. “Shut up before we both start crying.”

“Okay, okay,” Alex gently strokes his cheek with his thumb, laughing. “No need for that tonight,” he leans closer for a slow, tender and caring kiss, and snuggles closer as another strong rush of wind hits their faces.

A couple of minutes later they get to the other side of the brigde and keep walking, clueless of where they’re heading – as far as Miles can tell, they might be nearing the city centre but that’s not something he’d bet on. Alex’s words still occupy his mind and, maybe not even because they were perfectly reasonable but because how sincere and heartfelt they sounded, Miles feels a great deal more at ease.

Alex glances at him out of the corner of his eye and, as if he can read Miles’s mind, squeezes his hand, smiling warmly, and Miles, shaking his head, barely holds back from doing something love-struck and dumb – like shouting _I love you_ at the top of his lungs or stopping in the middle of the crosswalk to kiss him, ignoring the red light. But instead, he just mumbles:

“When did you ever get so-“

“Reasonable and boring?”

“Mature,” Miles finishes the sentence, surprising himself a little: it’s not like he thought Alex was childish before, and Alex only chuckles.

“D’you think you’re the first one to get all melancholic because the tour’s ending?”

“Oh.”

“I just had some time to convince myself first.”

“Exactly how much time?” Miles tilts his head to the side, and Alex looks away, humming something unintelligible, and that only makes Miles more curious. “Al?”

“Since after the first two or three gigs,” he admits reluctantly and lets out a muffled giggle. “My mind’s weird, I know.”

“…Preventive action?”

“It did work, didn’t it?” and it’s impossible to argue with that. After hesistating for a bit, Alex adds: “And mid-summer, I started thinking what I would do when we get back.”

“And what?” Miles laughs.

“Wanna know everything, don’t you?... What will _you_ do?”

“Get some sleep,” he replies instantly, and Alex snorts. “Go for a walk. See if I left some book unfinished before the tour… And in the evenings, I’ll play whatever I can think of, until I think of something good.”

“Same here, more or less... Perfect, innit?”

“And then we’ll get lazy and _something good_ would be coming to us, like, a song every half year.”

Alex shrugs, clearly not terrified of such a possibility.

“It still would, right? _Paris ne s’est pas fait en un jour_ *,” he suddenly adds in a dramatic voice, and Miles almost chokes on the air. “Maybe I’ll learn French, huh?”

“You know, there’s British English, and you’ll have Sheffield-ish French.”

“You’re being mean to me.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“Is that so?” Alex turns to face him, raising an eyebrow in a silent question, and Miles leans closer to whisper in his ear:

“Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to have you right there on the stage every time you said a single word in French?”

Alex’s eyes widen slightly, but the next moment he narrows them with a sly grin.

“You’ve got a new fetish, Mi, is that right?... How did you make it through _Les Cactus_?”

“That ridiculous screaming doesn’t count.”

“You’re being mean again,” Alex shakes his head mournfully, but his eyes are sparkling with laughter. “ _C’est dommage_ **.”

“Who’s mean now?”

“ _A la guerre comme a la guerre_.”

“ _A la guerre_ that is, then!” Miles pulls Alex closer by the shoulders and starts tickling him mercilessly – Alex lets out such a desperate yell you could think he’s being murdered, and his breathless laugh echoes through the empty street in an almost creepy way. He could break free quite easily, but instead he tries to grab Miles’s hands and, after hopelessly failing, starts tickling back, now causing Miles to make an undignified shriek as well.

Half a block away from them, a police car drives by, lights flashing, and Alex – no, is still laughing, although more hysterically, as he breathes out a panicked:

“Shit!” and starts running before Miles even has a chance to point out that the probability of the car going for them and, in general, of them getting arrested for being idiots, is almost non-existent.

He can only charge after Alex, make a turn to a narrow street where their heavy footsteps are making just as much noise as laughing did before, catch up to him on the corner, already out of breath, grab his elbow, push him against the nearest brick wall – a flower shop’s, it seems – and quiet him down with a kiss. It works seamlessly: Alex’s arms immediately wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss. After pulling away, though, he continues giggling, resting his head against Miles’s shoulder.

“Did you ever think we’d be hiding from the police on the night streets of Paris?”

“That car didn’t even turn our way-“

“Don’t spoil the romantic adventure!”

“The romantic adventure we’re about to have is getting lost _on the night streets of Paris_ ,” Alex’s laughter gets louder, and Miles pulls at a lock of his hair that fell across his face. “I mean it, Al, where are we?”

Alex shrugs cluelessly with a carefree smile, and his eyes seem to find something behind Miles’s back.

“Look, there’s a Starbucks,” Miles glances over his shoulder, also spotting the familiar logo gently glowing a few buildings away. The caption says, as far as his knowledge of French goes, that it’s open around the clock.

“You want coffee? Now?”

“After everything we’ve done tonight so far, you’re surprised by my innocent desire to have coffee?”

“Fair enough,” Miles is about to turn to the sign again, but Alex’s fingers wrap around his wrist, not letting go, as he takes the cigarettes out of his pocket again, and Miles, leaning on the wall next to him, reaches for the lighter.

Their gazes eventually turn to the sky – or the small portion of it that’s not blocked by the buildings, anyway, – and it’s already getting lighther: soft pre-dawn blue is barely visibly but undoubtedly replacing the pitch black, and their line of sight is no longer limited to the area lit by the nearest street lamp.

“Do you remember us watching the sunrise in Sheffield together?” Alex suddenly whispers. “The first time you came to my house, before France?”

“That time when we were sitting on your window? Ridiculously scared that your mom’s gonna need something outside at that hour and see us smoking?”

“Oh, we were smoking then, too, right.”

“And drinking coffee as well, I think?”

“We’re so boring and predictable.”

Miles, of course, remembers that dawn: a different colour of the sky because of the pearly grey clouds – but still somehow reminiscent of this one, a warm shoulder pressed to his own, a restless desire to take Alex’s hand – but he didn’t dare, not back then, back then they were still convincing themselves they were just friends, – mist rising on the distant horizon and smoke burning in his lungs.

And he could call those moments a lot of things, but never boring.

“Wanna come to my place?” Alex asks in a hushed, almost unsure voice. “I mean, right from here. We’re taking the same flight anyway, and it’s a longer drive to yours…”

“Sure,” Miles doesn’t hesitate for a single second, and not because of the eighty extra miles of driving, and watches a smile spread over Alex’s face.

“It’s a deal, then,” he puts the cigarette out and throws it away, and strolls toward Starbucks, putting his hands in his pockets, and Miles gazes at his silhouette on the empty street for a few seconds before following him.

The girl working the night shift meets them with a bewildered stare and a quickly supressed yawn, and Miles chuckles: yeah, he probably wouldn’t expect a crazy pair of tourists craving for coffee at this hour, either. He orders two cappuccinos in broken French while Alex sits down at the table, looking thoughtfully through the window, although there’s not much to look at, save for some hotel across the road.

“What are your names?” the girl asks with a tired but polite smile, and Miles doesn’t have any good reasons for being secretive.

“Miles and Alex.”

She seems to inspect his face more carefully and waits longer than necessary before leaving to make their drinks but doesn’t look surprised or say anything – maybe she’s not interested in them at all and just sleepy. But then, five minutes later, as Miles puts two cups on the table, Alex turns his own and whistles shortly.

“What?” Miles blinks in confusion, and Alex swirls the cup around – under his name a caption in neat handwriting says “ _looks a little bit like Paris_ ”.

Alex whips his head around, looking for the girl, but she seems to have disappeared in the staff room.

“Too bad she left,” he sighs, and Miles giggles, turning his own cup around, too: next to his name there’s a small heart. “Hey, that’s not fair, I want a heart, too.”

“Gimme a sec, I’ll ask her for the sharpie and draw one on your cheek.”

“That’s cute, though.”

“Damn cute indeed.”

They feel that calling her back might be awkward after all, so they settle for finding the guest book and a pen near the entrance, writing down a few nice things about the girl and the café in general and leaving both of their signatures below. Alex, taking a glance at his watch, carefully scribbles “04:38” at the bottom of the page.

“What’s that for?”

“Credibility,” he replies with conviction, and they get back to their cappuccinos, which are either exceptionally good or just seem so after a long walk in the cool fresh air – or, most likely, both.

Miles is drinking the last sips, trying to make them last longer, when his loud ringtone startles them, echoing through the empty café. The screen says _Zach_.

“Yeah?”

“Did you decide to spend the night on that street, after all?” Zach asks slyly instead of a hello.

“M-m. Not quite.”

“Spill it, Miles, where are you two?”

Alex, listening closely, giggles and drops his head on the table while Miles holds a dramatic pause before answering.

“…In a Starbucks?”

Zach either follows his example or is processing this information, but he stays silent for no less than ten seconds.

“You do remember about the flight, right?”

“Kind of. It’s at eight, though, innit?”

A heavy sigh on the other end of the line.

“It’s Paris time on the ticket, not London, for your information – at seven!”

“Oops. That was an accident.”

“If you give the manager a heart attack, that would be some accident,” Zach mumbles but seems to hold back a laugh. “Okay, not even gonna ask how you ended up in Starbucks, just give me the address, we’ll get you a taxi.”

They exchange brief glances, and Alex, rising up, hurries back to the cash register – they do have to call the girl back in the end, and she, smiling slightly, tells the address to Zach put on speaker.

“Merci,” he thanks her shortly. “Now wait. You’ll go straight to the airport, so you better hope we don’t forget any of your stuff.”

“Thanks, Zach,” Alex chuckles, and Zach is most definitely rolling his eyes at them.

“Hope you had fun, at least,” he snorts and hangs up.

Miles and Alex, of course, agree to take a selfie with the girl, as she got back anyway, – she flashes a happy smile at them as a goodbye – and then go outside to wait for the taxi. A couple of early passers-by are already walking somewhere in the distance.

The horizon is gently lit by the rays of sun, and the light is almost day-like: only the dimmed soft colours of the sky give away that the morning is barely beginning. Alex takes another glance at his watch and suddenly chuckles – Miles only rolls his eyes when Alex happily shows the “5:04” right in his face.

“Al, given no sleep and you, everything seems amazing and funny to me now, too, but this time literally comes every day,” Alex’s smile only gets brighter. “Yeah, goes back to five-o-five just like in your song, I get it.”

“Nah, that’s not what I mean. It does come every day, but I just thought,” Alex shakes his head and puts an arm around Miles’s shoulders, pressing their temples together, and raises a finger, watching as the last remaining seconds tick by, and, as the digit finally changes, kisses Miles on the cheek. “I just thought that today’s five-o-five might be one of the best in my life.”

**Author's Note:**

> * "Paris wasn't built in a day".  
> ** Something close enough to "such a shame".  
> I believe everyone knows "at war as at war", right?...
> 
> Strathallan is the location of T in the Park 2016.


End file.
